Lorena Howard-Sheridan is a Mexican-American designer and educator based in Austin, Texas. She majored in Graphic Design in the Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City and later went on to acquire a degree in Visual Communication from the Basel School of Design. Lorena is the one of the Principals at Salted Caramel Books, a small publishing house specializing in books for Spanish speaking kids that live in English speaking countries. She is an Adjunct Professor at Centro, a school of design in Mexico City, and a faculty member of the Masters in Graphic Design Program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work has been recognized by Quorum (Mexico), BoNE (Best of New England), and Independent Publisher Awards. She has lectured internationally on the subject of Vernacular Mexican lettering and recently published a beautiful book on the subject titled Sideways Glances.
Can you talk a little bit about your experiences growing up in Mexico? Is there a memory that particularly stands out?
A great way to get to know a place is visiting the spots where people go shopping. Iâll skip the description of our neighborhood Chain Supermarketâan easy place to visualize because it looked like any other in the worldâ, and tell you about the popular market, where my mom used to buy fresh produce. Iâd tag along with her, hoping to take a peek at the cardboard toys or the caged birds (and managing to return home with one or the other, at times). Markets get advertised as colorful, lively places, but to a kid like me, they also seemed like colossal, loud arcades, questionably lit and impregnated with all sorts of smellsâoh, the aromas of fruit and spices, fresh tortillas, soap or candles, all displayed in the open and sold free of air-sealed packaging; but also the dreadful odorâand the sightsâof the meat hallway, an area that up to this day, I rarely dare to approach.
While my mom engaged in business with her âmarchantaâ Iâd wander a bit among the stands, and sink an arm in a container filled with raw rice (a delightful feeling on the skin). Iâd get a scold and someone would open a currant-flavored soda to distract me from getting in the way of passing wheelbarrows; the beverage tasted like cough syrupâundrinkable! My mom would give me a look that meant âyou will swallow that soda like the polite little girl that you areâ, so Iâd painstakingly gulp my way through about half of it.
Those Saturday mornings provided the slight feeling of dangerous adventure, but back at home, Iâd get to watch the Pink Panther Show on black and white TV and my life seemed as safe and predictable as that of any other middle-class kid around the world. None of it all felt Mexican or foreign, but rather like the very fabric of life.
The brash disparities between Mexicans, that often shock andâjustifiablyâoffend newcomers, are assumed and negotiated by residents on a daily basis, notwithstanding a mild uneasiness that lays the ground for coping mechanisms: humor or cynicism, communal responsibility or social hatred, compassion or fear, generosity or denial⊠I believe that every Mexican harbors a combination of a bit of them all.
When did you decide to become a designer?
I grew up virtually glued to a drawing pad and was fortunate to know that something related to that pad, was what I was set to do. There were a few, diverse fields that attracted me, but by the end of high school I didnât have a plan other than to pursue what felt like my true calling and hope that a path would unfold. I was also concerned for probable financial responsibilities in the future, and partially in response to that, I checked in the âGraphic Designâ box in my application to college. This was during the mid 80âs: personal computers were yet not out of the oven, so I really chose design for its plastic aspects. It was a bit misguided, but in a lucky way: I would stumble onto typography, and designâeventually, teachingâwould give me all the tools that I could want to meet my intellectual curiosity.
How do you think your upbringing, cultural heritage, and education have impacted your work? You studied design both at the Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City and at the Basel School of Design in Switzerland? How were these experiences different? Did anything stand out in terms of the educational program?
Education at my University in Mexico City was effective, for I was able to enter the working field and eventually make a living. College instilled a sense of professional autonomy in me. Unfortunately, the program was weak in terms of instructing the craft of graphic design. We sure had a lot of studio classes, but not enough training on how to do the actual work. I couldnât tell if my projects were working or not until they were finished (and/or graded)⊠isnât that crazy? Itâs a common dilemma for our type of profession: we live in a world that rewards assertiveness, so it is easy to oversee that in design you need to be able to work by trial and error and to not know what you are going to make before you make it.
Yet around the 5th semester into my major, I had one single studio class with a Basel School of Design ex-student, and it changed the game for me. It seemed a strange class in comparison to the rest: the projects were simple but ended up looking very professional; things would happen on the paper that I hadnât thought about before: we were finding ideas, as opposed to having them previously! We worked with simple sketching techniques (photocopies or by hand, no expensive silkscreen or type transfer sheets), until both the concept and the composition were ready. The studio happened through a self-guided process, leaving the guessing part out. We even got to have a say in our grade.
Ten years went by from the time I took that unique course to the day when I finally left to Switzerland, in search for more of that pragmatic education. It was an excellent choice for me. Keep in mind that Basel is a medieval city in central Europe, where this kind of program canât help but to borrow wisdom from the medieval practice of apprenticeship: the knowledgeable master teaches the trade to the younger student, whom will subsequently pass the torch to the coming generations. The Swiss were already frantic with visual research for interactive technologies, so there was a nice combination between tradition and a curiosity for the new.
Lots of people talk about their grad school years as a rough time, but for me it was wonderful. I spent three years dedicated exclusively to my work and my friends, and in exchange for nothing: there were no grades, no homework, or deadlines until the last year. I learned to look at work as a pleasure; I got trained in that intangible body-mind bond that you can only acquire through the practice. And most importantly, I learned how to postpone the requisite of assertiveness that the professional field values so dearly, and trust in the process.
At the school there were people from many countries and all continents. Most of us were lonely foreigners and our command of German was rather primitive, so we grew very close and would have endless conversations about our cultural backgrounds. We were teaching each other what ourâculturally inducedâblind spots were. It was then that, by comparison, I could finally see my nationality and that of others expressed onto graphic work without the interference of stereotypes. Our real differences are way more subtle and intriguing than regional costumes give away; they manifest through abstract properties of the work or in the synthesis of concepts; a simple choice of words for talking about a graphic piece can be revealing.
By the way, the US has also had a significant impact in my trajectory. I have had to adjust and adapt to atmospheres permeated by diverse discourses, and trying to figure each one out has been another well of education.
You are one of the principals at Salted Caramel Books, a bilingual publishing house - what do you love most about your work there?
It is a small companyâand newâwhich gives us room to experiment, stretch the meaning of the word âpublishingâ and find excuses to dig into our guilty pleasures. Most people donât realize the insane amount of work and effort that goes into a publication. But there is a stage in every project, when it begins to take a clear shape and become its own entity, revealing an outcome that couldnât be anticipated; that moment is pure bliss.
You recently published your book âSideways Glances: Vernacular Mexican Lettering,â what were some of the things that drew you to formalize your research? Can you tell us about your process creating the wonderful collages included in the book?
Mexican street lettering became my scholarship subject as I started teaching typography in the US. In all honesty, I picked the subject because I thought American students would enjoy looking at the funky images, but had no idea that I would learn so much from connecting the traditional type assignments to my hometown ice-cream flavor list. Designing the book pushed me to test my own observations, like a spoonful of my own medicine. It was a very introspective process, and helped me reconcile with a part of my âvisual upbringingâ that I had not been quite able toâconsciously, intentionallyâconnect to as a graphic designer.
Have you ever considered designing type inspired by Mexican lettering? Do you think that systematizing such a free, organic form of writing would diminish its value?
All the time! (Although I am more inclined to lettering than typeface design). Writing systems are like species: they evolve and adapt to languages, technologies and individual interventions, whileâeven if imperceptiblyâaffecting them all. Street lettering is a very public animal, like a letter-form potluck: typographers, calligraphers and letterers alike draw inspiration from one-another; together we learn and teach each other how to read and write.
But you make a good observation: will the attention that vernacular lettering is getting affect the practiceâand how? Will it turn into a self-conscious trade, ruining its spontaneity perhaps? That History is in motion already. Weâll need to wait and see.
What can you say about the current state of design (graphic design, more specifically) in Latin America? Who is doing really exciting, interesting work right now? What should we be paying attention to?
I have mixed feelings. Graphic Design was virtually imported as a âfirst worldâ profession into Mexico, andâI reckonâinto other Latin-American countries as well. And while we have everything we could want for a great design practice (architecture, music, folklore, traditions, an expressive visual culture, etc.), we seem to still be doing a lot of catching-up. Many design programs are mislead by the illusion that graphic design is learned through software courses. In the professional field, the designersâ potential goes to waste while someone of higher rank with no design training (who âknows betterâ) takes relevant graphic and communication decisions. Of course, this unfortunate practice can happen anywhere, the question is: how much is too much for the general integrity of the profession? As a result, there is a proliferation of dull imitations ofâbastardizedâinternational style, overshadowing the cultural effect of better, more genuine approaches.
I believe we owe this situation to a reduced conscience of the purpose and potential of our practice: the expectation is for design to mimic the standards of big international markets, instead of emerging organically from every day life and thorough research. There is little awareness that visual communication is a mirror of society, and as a consequence graphic design becomes cosmetic, sometimes elitist, and sadly misses the chance of being a tool for the well being of all members of a community.
But I am optimistic, because I believe that this situation is gradually and inevitably shifting. The Web and the Internet have brought about some substantial change already, increasing the ranks of the middle classâif not financially, at least intellectually, which is not a small thing. There is access to a lot of information and much of it is retrieved through quality design and communication experiences. The audience is raising the bar as they respond more effectively to better kind of work, and good designers (and their advocates) are listening. Itâs everyday more common to learn about design initiatives directed to lower-income communities, and about research based on specific idiosyncrasies. I am putting my money on young people.
Personally, I enjoy and admire the work of GermĂĄn Montalvo and Alejandro Magallanes. My opinion is that, each in their own way, accomplishes the task of portraying what I wouldnât hesitate to call a true Mexican style.
Do you think Latin American design is well represented in the design world?
We must keep in mind the delicate situation that, if we are expectingâor are expectedâto constantly deliver design that looks folkloric, popular, tropical or else in accordance to touristic standards, we will be forever locked outside of a true global community of design. Yet, when a Latin-American designer works successfully for a project and his or her nationality is irrelevant, I find that to be excellent representation of Latin-American design. So my answer is yes.
You are a designer, a writer, a teacher, and a publisher - how do you put it all together? Any advice for others leading such a full life?
I have more questions than answers in that department. There is only so much time in a day, and weâd like to accomplish so much! I am just tryingâlike everybody elseâto build a balance, keep on moving, and be patient (the world will always want you to go faster).
Are you currently working on any new projects? Or what has been your favorite project through out your career?
Permanently. The system that works for me is to have a few ideas floating around, and work on each intuitively: get hooked or take a break, mix and match. The quality of the work will be better if there is freedom to explore without rigid expectations; by wandering a bit and sketching a lot. When a new project with a timeframe comes along, that pool of work often serves as a springboard.
My favorite projects all have one thing in common: they happen in collaboration with other people. I feel profoundly seduced by the complicity of wishing to produce splendid work. Perhaps that is one of the reasons that I am attracted to teaching, too.
If you could invite 5 people to dinner, alive or dead, who would they be?
I could throw names at you, but to be truthful, I would invite friends, friends and more friends, the ones that I canât see because they live far away or I live far away.
How would you describe the current âstate of designâ in Puerto Rico, and more generally, in Latin America?
We, Puerto Rican designers, are in an enviable situation. We have social, economic and cultural crises⊠What better context to produce meaningful work that can test the impact of design communication? The flip-side? There are few designers engaging these themes.
Contemporary commercial design is mostly conducted through the lens of advertising, while cultural design stays aligned with artistic renderings and depictions. Design as a discipline for social changeâvery active in the 60s, 70s and 80sâlacks presence in todayâs critical dialogues. I believe that the proliferation of independent, siloed freelance professionals has resulted in a smaller, quieter voice.
What is the most important thing that you learned during your time in school (undergraduate or graduate)? And what is one thing that you wished you had learned while in school?
I would say that graduate school taught me how to understand the relationship between design and critical thinking.
As to what I had wished I had learned early on, as an undergraduate, is related to business training. Designers need to know about business to be able to remain at the conversation table. Business is important to remain relevant to decision makers.
While youâve contributed to and led many multi-disciplinary design projects, what is it about publishing and designing books that you find to be so valuable?
Threading a narrative⊠at all possible levels. Imagery, type, paper, stitching, text, grid structures⊠all have to come together to communicate in a consistent manner and chat with a clear voice. I love sewing the elements together.
What is the single most important challenge that a young/emerging designer faces today?
Overwhelming themselves with the digital landscape. I see less and less exploration and more referencingâpersonal space for critical self assessment is huge in my view.
Are there any dream project, clients, partners that youâd like to work with/on in the future?
I would like to spend a few days at Pentagram. I have always wanted to volunteer to spend a week in the space, just to experience how they manage so many disciplines at the same time. As someone who dares explore different variations of design, I would like to see them in action up close and personal.
On a more personal level, I would love the opportunity to execute a project for/with Denise Gonzales Crisp. I know I would suffer through the process, but it would be so rewarding.
Part I: An Abridged History of Puerto Rico from c. 1493-1950
This essay relies heavily on research done by historians for the catalogue Puerto Rico: Arte e Identidad. This account of the islandâs history is part of my own learning process; if any information seems lacking or incorrect, let me know via our contact page and I will make every effort to rectify the mistake.
Puerto Rico is a verifiable melting pot and its identity has been the subject of heated debates throughout the 20th century. In order to better understand this quest for the essence of Puerto Ricanâness, we have to take a look at the islandâs history.
In 1493, Christopher Columbus âdiscoveredâ Puerto Rico on his second voyage to claim lands for the rulers of Spain, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. At the time, the island was called Borinquen by the native people, the TaĂnos, but Columbus renamed it San Juan Bautista (today, the capital of Puerto Rico is San Juan). 1 Over time, Spanish traders began calling the island Puerto Rico, which literally translates to ârich port.â In 1508, Juan Ponce de Leon, who had formed part of Columbusâs crew, founded the first Spanish settlement on the island. 2 At first for gold, and later for work on coffee and sugar plantations, the Spaniards enslaved the TaĂnos and brought slaves from Africa. This gives rise to the three cultural roots of Puerto Rico: European, Native, and African. Of the early colonial period, historian Silvia Ălvarez Curbelo states: âthe isolation and indifference of the military authorities gave wayâŠto a syncretism of Hispanic, African, and even indigenous elements in folk religion, cuisine, idioms, music, and mind.â 3
Up until the 19th century, Spain controlled the commercial sector, the church, and the military on the island. Although a new Puerto Rican identity had been forged over time from the âcreole landed gentry, the peninsular merchants, the laborers, the slaves, the freed slaves, and turn-of-the-century workers and intellectuals,â the colonial government worked hard to repress any progressive ideas that could subvert Spanish rule. 4 âThe liberal press was silenced; the slave uprisings were smothered; infamous legal codes were decreed to regulate work, public conduct, and speech; and [any] initiatives for self-government and adequate representation before the Spanish courts were curtailed.â 5 Even so, the mid-nineteenth century is characterized by a growing sense of Puerto Rican patriotism. Clandestine liberal, progressive groups formed, the first political parties and cultural institutions were founded, and cracks started to appear in the Spanish stronghold over the island. âExile,â Curbelo states, âboth voluntary and involuntary ⊠was key to the articulation of the first Puerto Rican literary discourse ⊠[leading] to two socio-political discourses: abolition and separatism.â 6
SOME KEY LITERARY PUBLICATIONS:
Aguinaldo puertorriqueño, 1843
Ălbum puertorriqueño, 1844
Cancionero de Borinquen, 1846
El gĂbaro, 1849
Due to the extremely conservative regime in Spain at the time, the liberal movements suffered. However, âpersistent abolitionist agitationâstimulated in part by the defeat of the Confederacy in the US Civil War, the continued Cuban War of Independence of 1868-78, and slave resistance in the form of conspiracies, escapes, and individual acts of defianceâled to the abolition of slavery in Puerto Rico in 1873.â 8 Â It wasnât until 1897 that the monarchist regime of the Restoration in Spain fell; the new leadership attempted to instate autonomist reforms for Cuba and Puerto Rico in an effort to âappease Cuban resistance and postpone US intervention, but it was too late. By the time Puerto Ricoâs autonomist cabinet was appointed [through the Charter of Autonomy], the United States had declared war.â 9
The United States government saw Puerto Rico as key âfor the protection of a future canal in Central America.â 10 In a letter to Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, future president Theodore Roosevelt wrote: âI earnestly hope that no truce will be granted and that peace [with Spain] will only be made on consideration of Cuba being independent, Puerto Rico ours, and the Philippines taken from Spain.â 11
Thus, just when the island had acquired its first taste of autonomy, Puerto Rico underwent a drastic change in leadership. On July 25, 1898, the United States Army disembarked in the southern city of GuĂĄnica and within days had control over the island.
At first, ambitions of gaining entry into to the US economic markets and hopes about democracy and progress, made the change appealing and the US was welcomed with open arms. âPuerto Rican autonomists imagined the US to be, as they put it, a âState of states and a Republic of Republics.â For them, the US occupation seemed to open a grand vista toward a prosperous future. Upon annexation, Puerto Ricoâs politically and economically dominant sectors hoped to enjoy all of the advantages of integration on and equal footing with other states, into the most dynamic capitalist-industrialist economy of the time.â 12
However, soon it became clear that the rights and aspirations of the island and its inhabitants were not a priority. In 1900, although deemed by some as unconstitutional and intrinsically anti-democratic, congress passed the Foraker Act: the constitution was not extended to Puerto Rico, but the United States continued to be the controlling power on the island. Essentially, Puerto Rico would exist as a colony. The Governor and Executive Council, both of which had to be US citizens, would be appointed by the President; the House of Delegates would be elected by Puerto Ricans, but would be subject to a triple veto by the executive council, the governor, and the President. The act also included a temporary tariff on the transportation of good between Puerto Rico and the United States.
The Foraker Act did establish the first public education systems, in which English was the official language, and in 1903 the University of Puerto Rico was founded to âprovide teachers for the system.â 13 Despite its dubious beginnings, it was the first official center for higher education in Puerto Rico, and is, to this day, one of the most reputed universities on the island.
SOME KEY DEVELOPMENTS IN THE EARLY 20th CENTURY:
1917: The Jones Act granted United States citizenship to Puerto Ricans.
1922: The Nationalist Party, a resistance movement that worked towards Puerto Rican independence, was founded. Pedro Albizu Campus was the partyâs strongest advocate.
1946: The first Puerto Rican governor, JesĂșs T. Piñero, is appointed by the US government.
1947: President Harry S. Truman authorizes a law that allows Puerto Ricans to vote for the islandâs governor.
1948: Luis Muñoz MarĂn is the first elected Puerto Rican governor.
1952: Puerto Rico becomes a Commonwealth of the United States.
Although the arrival of the United States was met with no resistance from Spain or the Puerto Rican people, it resulted, as can be expected, in considerable amounts of culture shock â compounded by two years of an oppressive military regime, just months after Spain had granted the island its autonomy, and an educational system that was meant to Americanize the colony as quickly as possible. 14 Resistance to this cultural assault came primarily from the arts: literature, music, and fine arts. It is in the arts that we first see an assertive Puerto Rican voice, and a marked style that has been called jibarismo. Characterized by nostalgia and an idealization of the island, this form of expression inspired Puerto Rican patriotism and was meant to counteract the US attempts to force feed the island with americanâness. 11 âArt became an instrument for the definition of a national and cultural identity in the face of political and cultural dissolution brought about by the North American regime.â 15
Puerto Rico can be defined by a search for identity and cultural voice. Due to its political status, Puerto Rico is both part of and separate to the United States; Puerto Ricans are born US citizens, but are Latino. A heady mix of American convention and Creole tradition, Puerto Rico perhaps exists in the land of gray â with an identity that defies definition.
It wasnât until I was out of college and working as a designer for a couple of years that I first came across the work of Lorenzo Homar. Homar is quite possibly the greatest Puerto Rican graphic designer everâthe islandâs very own Paul Rand. I had never before considered the design history of Puerto Rico. In fact, as a child and teenager it was all I could do to stand my familyâs cultureâthe music, the food, the dancing, Spanglish. Discovering his work, as well as the work of other artists and designers he was affiliated with, has allowed me to unearth the rich history and culture of Puerto Rico and proudly claim it as my own.
Born in San Juan in 1913, Homarâs artistic career spanned the fields of illustration, printmaking, typography, painting, jewelry design, engraving, and graphic design. While much of his work displays clear evidence of handiwork, the influence of modernism was inevitable. Homar was a master craftsman of the expressive image. Itâs possible that his early years in the Caribbean had something to do with this. More likely, however, is that his education while still a teenager in New York City during the 1930s played a significant role in the development of his artistry.
Homar studied at the Art Students League in New York. Five years later he began an apprenticeship at Cartier as a jewelry designer. During this time, he continued to develop his skills, eventually taking classes at Pratt Institute. After World War II, upon returning to Puerto Rico, Lorenzo Homar began a thriving design career serving the cultural sector on the island. In fact, he also helped to establish and develop many cultural, social, and artistic programs aimed at improving life for Puerto Ricans. The body of work he contributed to as part of DIVEDCO (the Community Education Division of the Puerto Rico Department of Education) was especially significant in demonstrating his abilities as both an artist and an educator. As the director of the DIVEDCO Graphic Studio, Homar helped to create illustrations, typography, and artwork for booklets, posters, and much more.
Most impressive of all are Homarâs typographic posters and prints. His hand-drawn letter forms range from tightly done and Medieval-inspired to swashy scripts, all with a strong calligraphic leaning. Most of Homarâs typographic tendencies can be grouped into 3 categories: field, icon, and illustrative. Where his work creates a âfieldâ of type it generally serves as a compositionally-large area or as a backdrop to some illustration. âIconicâ forms of typography are also found easily throughout his work. These feature singular configurations of letter forms, usually centered upon a page. Illustrative examples of Homarâs typography generally accompany other artwork or serve as a secondary means of presenting information.
The ideals embodied in Lorenzo Homarâs oeuvre are undoubtedly Puerto Rican. The artistâs work can now be found in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Library of Congress, and the Ponce Museum of Art. His collected works are stored at Princeton University and can be accessed online from anywhere around the world. Homarâs legacy is undeniable. And yet it is a mystery as to why his body of work remains absent from the canon of graphic design history.
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